


On the first day of...

by iwaizumemes (skytramp)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Getting Together, M/M, OiYama Week, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/iwaizumemes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first day of the second week of his first year of University Yamaguchi Tadashi was asked out on a date.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <b>[OiYama Week: all 7 days in a single one-shot]</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	On the first day of...

On the first day of the second week of his first year of University Yamaguchi Tadashi was asked out on a date.

It wouldn’t have been unusual except for a few important factors. One: Yamaguchi had only ever dated two other people in his _life_. The first had been a girl, before he knew he was gay. The second, his best friend who he had crushed on for nearly a decade, the slow crumbling realization that platonic love does not always equal romantic love ended that sometime around graduation. The second factor: The confession happened during volleyball practice. His third ever volleyball practice as a member of this team. And finally, the third and most confusing factor of all: The boy who asked him out was Oikawa Tooru. 

Oikawa Tooru was the captain of the volleyball team, in his third year of University, and drop dead gorgeous. Sure, there was the fact that he’d been the captain of his high school’s rival team, Yamaguchi could get past that, it had been three years after all. Oikawa was also his _current_ team captain, but really that would only be a problem for Oikawa himself, and he was doing the asking. The bigger and more immediate problem was that nothing short of total apocalypse could have stopped Yamaguchi from giving the answer that he did: a stuttered, yes, accompanied by a blush so red he was certain he looked like a tomato with freckles. 

He’d hardly noticed that Oikawa had looked nervous himself, that his hands were clasped together, that he shifted from foot to foot in a way that wasn’t so much to relieve pressure from his weaker knee, but a way to occupy himself so that he couldn’t back down. Oikawa had been nervous, and when Yamaguchi thought back to that break in practice when his captain had approached him, he still didn’t know why. Yamaguchi didn’t think he was bad looking, per se, he’d been called cute often enough by friends and family, he knew that some people liked his freckles even when he didn’t, and since his hair had grown long enough to tie back he’d been getting more interested looks, that didn’t change the bone deep confusion that came from the indisputable fact that someone as god-level handsome as Oikawa had been nervous to approach him. 

_____

So now, here he was, on the fifth day of the second week of his first year of University, wearing his nicest sweater and dark jeans, standing outside an upscale but casual restaurant, waiting for Oikawa Tooru. He was early, he tended to be when he was worried about the dangers of being late, and the sun was just setting between the buildings of Sendai, casting long geometric shadows through the city streets. 

“Yama-chan!” He heard a voice call, and he didn’t even have to turn to tell who it was. It had taken Oikawa all of thirty minutes of their first practice together for him to adopt the new nickname. But, just because he didn’t have to look, didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Oikawa was crossing the street, the full shock of setting sunlight glinted off his hair and upraised hand. He was wearing a button down shirt, Yamaguchi couldn’t tell the color, something pastel, and black slacks. He looked better than he did during practice, if that was even possible. 

Green. His shirt was a pale green, he could see once Oikawa stepped close enough. But only for a split second before he pulled Yamaguchi into a hug. He was taller, with broader shoulders than Yamaguchi but it was weird, they just seemed to _fit_. They fit better than him and Tsukki ever had. 

Dinner was surprisingly… easy. Easy was the best way to describe how their sentences blended together, how they went from one topic to the next, never stopping to wonder how they got there. You could say how it was easy when Oikawa rested his hand first on top of Yamaguchi’s on the table, then on his shoulder as they walked together, and finally on his lower back as they walked through the exit doors. Yamaguchi didn’t know if he wanted to scream, laugh or cry at the feeling of his broad hand, spread across his back just above his waistband. Whatever he felt it was overwhelmingly _good_ and he wanted it to happen more. 

Yamaguchi shivered when Oikawa had pulled his hand away. The sky was dark but the city was bright, headlights, streetlights, the glowing neon of businesses flashed around them. Some nights Yamaguchi missed the peace and quiet of rural Miyagi, how the sky was truly dark, and the stars shone through, how the only noises for miles would be crickets if you went to the right place, tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight the heartbeat of the city matched his own, frantic, quick, straddling the line between supreme joy and panic.

If one of the people who had passed him on the street had been asked, they might have thought his smile manic, plastered to his face in a way that made his cheeks ache. Oikawa had him laughing, they bent over, leaning into each other, choking on deep breaths before the laughter could fade. Oikawa’s arm went back over his shoulder, and it stayed there. The smile didn’t go away. 

______

It was the sixth day of the fifteenth week of his first year of University, and Yamaguchi was covered in baking flour. The counter, also covered in baking flower, the floor, more flour, and at this point he wondered if there would ever be a point in the future of his college apartment where he wouldn’t find baking flour in some nook or cranny of his kitchen. To be fair, the cake thing had been entirely Oikawa’s fault. It wasn’t strictly his fault that he didn’t know Yamaguchi was hopeless in the kitchen, but when a gorgeous boy (his beauty had not diminished in the slightest due to frequent exposure) asks you no less than three dozen times to bake him a cake, how could Yamaguchi refuse? He couldn’t, so here he was, midmorning on a Saturday, white as a sheet and Oikawa is cackling in the doorway.

It took Yamaguchi less than ten minutes to convince Oikawa to help him clean up. Their friends would have laughed. Well, more accurately Iwaizumi would have punched you if you suggested getting Oikawa to clean up a mess that wasn’t even his was even possible. Tsukki would have scoffed, and then laughed at Yamaguchi’s misfortune, and then scoffed again at Oikawa, just for being Oikawa. Luckily they didn’t need their friends to laugh. Because they were laughing. Yamaguchi felt like he hadn’t stopped laughing for fifteen weeks, his cheeks lived in a constant state of soreness, his chest was tight in a way that suggested his heart may be swelling due to his increased heart rate, or maybe his lungs were expanding, to hold the deep breaths needed for the belly laughs that shook his bones. 

It took them two hours to make it so Yamaguchi could convince himself there was no more flour. Some part of him was certain they were both lying, that the flour would jump out and into his ramen one evening, or onto black pants just before an important interview, but he’d deal with that eventuality if and when it happened. 

It took Oikawa less than ten minutes to convince Yamaguchi that it would be more convenient if they showered together. Most of that ten minutes was spent willing the redness to leave his cheeks and clenching his fists so they didn’t shake. This wasn’t new, this intimacy, the level of their relationship, but whenever Yamaguchi really took the time to think about who his boyfriend was, to think about just _how much_ he was attracted to him in ways he’d never been attracted to anyone else, the nerves were always present. At this point in his life, Yamaguchi was sure he’d always be at least a little nervous in certain situations. Besides volleyball games and dinners with his grandfather, Oikawa making him feel wanted was the most nervewracking thing he could think of. 

______

On the second day of the twentieth week of his first year of University Yamaguchi rolled over in bed and smiled into his pillow. Oikawa was snuggled next to him, naked from the waist up, and he had freckles across his chest that matched the ones on Yamaguchi’s face. Well they didn’t match precisely, for one thing, they were spread out, he had only a handful from collarbone to navel, and they were darker, the contrast between his pale skin and the marks that Yamaguchi loved to kiss was half of the appeal, but something about them still made him feel they were closer. Something about them sharing such an inane trait did things to his chest that he’d spent the last twenty weeks mostly attributing to a yet undiagnosed dangerous heart condition. Why else would his heart feel like it was in his throat when Oikawa laughed and pulled him close, or ran his long fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair?

Strictly speaking, it was Tuesday, and they both had classes. Less strictly speaking, it was the week before finals and classes weren’t mandatory in order to encourage everyone to study to their fullest capabilities. Despite the fact that they were two years apart in their degrees, with completely different areas of study, Yamaguchi had decided his optimal studying capacity had been reached, right here in bed, where Oikawa sleepily kissed his shoulder. 

This could be the time, Yamaguchi was thinking, as he’d thought a dozen times in the last two weeks. This could be the time to say it. _Love_. That dangerous heart condition, the one that yanked at his chest and stole his breath, lately he’d been thinking maybe that’s what love was. Maybe it was just love when they both reached for each other’s hands at the same moment. Maybe it was actually love when Oikawa’s smile made him smile and his laugh made him smile and his hands made him smile and everything about him made him smile. 

He’d been testing the word on his tongue, rolling it around, whispering it in secret but nothing felt the same as when he tried to say it then. In the end he didn’t need to worry. Oikawa whispered something against his neck, the breath was humid and Yamaguchi wanted to squirm. “I’m sorry?” Yamaguchi had replied.

“I love you, Yama-chan.” Oikawa had said again, and Yamaguchi said it too. It was easy, just as it had always been, why had he expected anything else?

_______

It was the first day of the first week of his second year of University and it was the coldest Spring in memory. His first class had been music theory, a course he never would have thought to take if Tsukki hadn’t convinced him it would be easy. It hadn’t seemed easy. Oikawa had begged him to take a course in astronomy. Yamaguchi’s argument, a completely valid and correct one, at that, was that no business major would ever need the knowledge an astronomy class could provide. Oikawa had argued, a completely invalid argument, biased and 99% illogical, that astronomers, if anyone, would have true knowledge regarding the existence of aliens, and as a student in his final year, he simply had no room in his schedule to take the class. This was one argument Oikawa didn’t win, and when Yamaguchi’s schedule was finalized, three business courses and the deceptively difficult _music theory_ , Oikawa pouted for all of ten minutes. 

They met by the largest grove of cherry trees on campus, like they always did, and took each other’s hands, like they always did. When Oikawa suggested they go to the planetarium, Yamaguchi couldn’t refuse even if he’d wanted to. They walked together, hands held, shoulders touching, smiles on their faces, all the way there.

Planetariums, by necessary design, were dark places, and Yamaguchi couldn’t see the sheer excitement on Oikawa’s face until the stars lit up above their heads. They held hands, leaned back in the seats with eyes wide open and watched the sky open above them. The narrator told them all about the universe. It was simple stuff, designed for children and tourists, but when Yamaguchi glanced over, Oikawa was listening with rapt attention. Yamaguchi knew for a fact that Oikawa knew every fact that echoed through the small room, he’d watched dozens of documentaries on space, and even more on aliens, in the year they’d been together. 

Yamaguchi didn’t mind, he liked space. The way the projected sky lit up reminded him of his childhood. He could be somewhere near Karasuno if he let himself forget only little details. He could be there, stars bright above him, the smell of the cherry blossoms, Oikawa’s hand in his. When Yamaguchi whispered that they should take a vacation, they should go home, sometime soon, Oikawa had just nodded, but he was still smiling, and he squeezed Yamaguchi’s hand in a way that he knew meant, _Yes, what a perfect idea._ , it was very similar to the squeeze that meant _I love you_.

_______

On the first day of the seventh week of his second year of University the cold spring had given way to the kind of summer that made sweating feel like a chore. The air was thick with hot moisture and his clothes never felt dry. Oikawa’s hand was in his, and for the first time in weeks there wasn’t sweat between his fingers. The train was air conditioned, and it was less than an hour until they’d be stepping off the train together, nearly home. 

Home was a relative term. This was his family’s home, Tsukki’s home too, as he was back for his own summer break, but Yamaguchi had been starting to think that home was something he brought with him everywhere he went. Home was comfort, the type of feelings you got when you could laugh without feeling judged, when you could speak your mind. He was beginning to think that home felt a lot like Oikawa. It wasn’t such a scary thought anymore. He remembered a time when he would have balked at putting that much trust in anyone, even his own mother, even Tsukki, but Oikawa had never asked for his trust. Oikawa had never asked to be anything, truly, but Yamaguchi had spent the last year and two months making him everything he deserved to be. 

Sometimes he thought when he talked to Iwaizumi that the man was sending him signals with his eyes. He was still angry, mean, even, to Oikawa sometimes, but the love was there. The type of friendship that didn’t go away easily, or ever. He had it with Tsukki, so he knew what it meant when Iwaizumi extended his teasing to include Yamuguchi, when he nodded at him from across the gym after practice, when he told them he’d ride the train back home by himself, despite the fact they were going the same direction. Iwaizumi could see it too, how important Oikawa was to him, how important they were to each other. 

The heat hit their faces when the train doors opened and they stepped onto the platform with their bags slung over their shoulders. _Somewhere closer to home_ , he thought, when he kissed their intertwined fingers. _Somewhere closer to home._

_______

On the third day of the ninth week of his second year of University Oikawa asked if they could move in together. Yamaguchi said yes before he even had a chance to finish the sentence. They were both still smiling. 

On the sixth day of the sixteenth week of his second year of University Yamaguchi left his college apartment and Oikawa left his own and they moved into something that was _theirs_. Yamaguchi didn’t get his deposit back. He’d never truly cleared the kitchen of wayward flour. 

On the first day of the thirty second week of his second year of University, Oikawa graduated. It seemed like every day he thought he’d never be so happy again, and he was doomed to be wrong. There was always more. Oikawa was always more. They kissed with Oikawa still wearing his graduation cap and gown, neither one of them cared that they were still in front of dozens of people. They were home. They were always home. 

On the last day of his fourth year at University Oikawa proposed. If someone had asked Iwaizumi how Oikawa would propose he’d probably say with something elaborate, something showy and loud and over the top. Iwaizumi was a good friend, to both of them by now, but he would have been wrong. It was simple. They met under the largest grove of cherry trees on campus, Yamaguchi had finished his final class, and Oikawa kissed his nose. They held hands, they laughed, and Oikawa had hummed something about them being together forever. Yamaguchi’s face still went red, the freckled tomato once again, when he asked Oikawa to repeat himself. _Let’s be together forever, Yama-chan, I mean it. I really mean it._

“I know you mean it. And of course we will.” 

If someone had asked Yamaguchi Tadashi on his first week of University what did he think the most unusual thing that would happen to him that year would be he would have said “Getting a starting position on the Volleyball team.” He would have been wrong, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> okay! So this was really a stylistically different thing for me. I sat down at 5:30PM, frustrated with my chapter fic, and decided I would crank out as much OiYama for this week as I could, despite that I found out about it about 9 hours ago. It's just after 8:30, three hours of near constant writing and that's what we have. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it.


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